


Beloved

by under_a_linden_tree



Category: Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: Etymology, I Don't Even Know, Just the two in the woods, M/M, Marcus is also there, Pining, Prophecies are a thing too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_linden_tree/pseuds/under_a_linden_tree
Summary: After a falling-out with Julia, Erasmus disappears into the woods. William follows him with the intention to calm him down. He had not intended to explain the meaning of his name to him, considering how true it is.
Relationships: Erasmus/William (Warlock - Slow Show)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	Beloved

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Slow Show](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395261) by [mia_ugly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia_ugly/pseuds/mia_ugly). 

> A great thank you to all the lovely people in the Warlock Party House server on Discord who encouraged me to write and post this, especially to my beta ZimniySoldat! And of course, this would never have existed without the marvellous "Slow Show" by mia_ugly.
> 
> We were talking about the meaning of the name Erasmus and I just couldn't shake the thought of it. So here we go...

The woods are deep. William’s breath crystallises in the heavy, oppressive air around him. Frost coats the fallen leaves on the ground, but he will not stop. If Erasmus thinks that he can disappear to sulk in the forest, he is wrong.

Admittedly, Julia has been overly sharp with him. Since that evening in the tavern when Marcus had presented them with the tattered prophecy manuscript, the dynamics of their little group had shifted entirely. They have spent day and night translating, deciphering, interpreting - however, this is not Erasmus’s talent.

“Look, Erasmus - I know you must feel left out but there was certainly no ill intent behind any of this!”

Erasmus hesitates but his anger is still visible in the slope of his shoulders, the strength of his step. William wasn’t present for the entirety of the row, but when he heard Julia shouting about the prophecy book… well, it had ended with her prohibiting Erasmus to even touch it. And now William is running after his slim silhouette, a mere shadow in the woods, trying to mend what has been broken.

“You know how concerned Julia is about her books. She won’t let me inspect them, either. _ Please_, stop running.”

Perhaps it’s the sharp sound of William catching his breath that makes Erasmus reconsider. Perhaps it’s reason catching up with him. Here in the woods, distance is between them and the _ problem_. Joshua. The prophecy. Inquisition.

(However, there’s a new problem, a problem that’s always there when they are alone, but that’s a different story.)

The point is, Erasmus stops. His face glows eerily in the night, brows knit together. There we go. William braces himself for a torrent of malcontent but it never comes. Instead, Erasmus’s expression turns frustrated.

“If we could only figure out what that damned prophecy means,” he mutters.

With a heavy sigh, he drops onto the cold ground, ruffling his wild red hair. For a moment, William considers pulling him into a hug, whispering words of comfort. Better not. He sits down on a fallen log a few feet away instead (putting distance between them has always worked - at least until now).

“Admittedly,” William begins, even though he doesn’t quite know what to say, “it has caused quite some distress. If we were at all able to understand the meaning of it…”

Erasmus huffs, stays quiet for a moment. When he finally speaks again, he seems more collected, like he has resigned himself to the reality of their situation.

“It's like the fucking tower of Babel and none of us speak any of the languages.”

William’s laugh comes out forced. There’s a certain truth to his words but Babel was hubris and what they are doing here, it’s right, it must be.

“You seem to forget that I am a learned man,” he says instead. “We were taught quite a bit of Latin and Greek in my seminary.”

Oh, oh no, that was the wrong thing to say. He can see it in Erasmus’s eyes. It’s one of his weaknesses, being the only one amongst them who has no education, no knowledge. So he closes himself off again.

“Then why are you telling me this instead of helping Julia?”

And here, William’s own insecurities come to play: He’s always second-best, less-suited, the final option. But he plays it off well.

“Oh, Marcus is helping her already. He is much better at such things than I am.” (_See? It almost sounds content._) “He always was much better than me in almost every aspect - the bishop's favourite, you see.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with being good.”

Erasmus’s tone is genuine and William doesn’t know what to say. Of course, goodness has little to do with good fortune, but he doesn’t want to argue. He has always admired Marcus but it’s hard to say what for, whether it was his good nature or the things he was good at.

In the oppressive silence of the woods, a different thought occurs to him. _ Occurs _is perhaps the wrong word for it. It has been on his mind for months, maybe even years, resurfacing again and again like waves rocking against the shore - slow and certain and constant.

There’s so much truth to names. Names never lie. That’s why we give them to things. Take William, for example. It means _ resolute protector_. He is determined to live up to that, every single day they spend here in the woods and beyond that.

(_And then there’s Marcus. The meaning of this one is unknown._)

“Your name,” William says, his voice low.

“What about it?”

“You mentioned it. When we first met each other. You said that Erasmus wasn’t your real name.”

He had laughed then, his head thrown back, sunlight reflecting off his red hair (“You really think that’s my real name? I’m a con man, for all your Heaven’s sake.”). If he had known back then… No, there’s no point in pondering the matter. Names will come true, after all.

The Erasmus of the present is giving him an odd look. “It isn’t. Why are you asking?”

“I was wondering. Do – do you know what it means?”

Erasmus remains silent. So William takes a deep breath. It doesn’t steady him. When he says the name, it’s soft, too soft. He looks away for a moment because he knows that, when he meets Erasmus’s eyes, he needs to be careful not to give himself away.

“It… it comes from the Greek ἐράσιμιος. It means _beloved _ or _ longed for_.”

When Erasmus pales, William does not understand why, but he knows that it means something.

(The scene revealing itself to Erasmus’s inner eye looks like this: A study, all warm and bright in the mellow light of a rising sun. The sounds of a small village cling to the morning breeze, not yet tarnished by the flames that would consume everything later. At a desk sits an elderly man with a large brown beard and a kind smile. He’s looking down at a young Erasmus, gently brushing back his hair. _ “One day, you’ll know,” _ he says. “_I’ll teach you to understand everything, my Erasmus._”

He said that without knowing that it would never come to that. Erasmus never learnt a single word of Greek from him, nor Latin, nor a Bible verse. Yet, _ he was loved_.

And now there’s William, trying to teach him these truths and others. And Erasmus is afraid of losing him, too.)

“Who gave that name to you?” William asks.

“I gave it to myself.”

A volume is written on Erasmus’s face and it softens William’s heart. For a con man, he can be surprisingly easy to read. Perhaps he wants to be read.

“You don't have to lie to me, Erasmus. You can trust me,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

And then a branch cracks behind William and Erasmus stiffens.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on William’s shoulder, soft but book-worn like his own used to be. Has Marcus been following them? Has he listened?

“William, I must speak to you,” Marcus says and with a sidelong glance towards Erasmus, he adds: “Confidentially.”

It takes him a moment to understand, to snap back out of this moment. He was so close to finding out a crucial detail about Erasmus’s past, he’s sure of it, but now that chance is gone. Instead, Marcus is leaning down to him, whispering so only he can hear.

“Now, William. It’s about Joshua.”

William notices the urgency in Marcus’s voice. It’s the kind of pressure that he remembers all too well from the days of their youth. A serious matter. So when he rises, there’s nothing he can do except exchanging a final look with Erasmus. He still seems somewhat dazed.

“I… good night, Erasmus.”

It’s all he can say.

So Marcus takes him by the arm and leads him back to their camp.

Tomorrow, William promises himself, tomorrow he’ll get over this. How he fell in love with a man called Erasmus.


End file.
